Sins of the Father
by DJ Sparkles
Summary: Dean insists on one last hunt before "No Rest For the Wicked" but even he and Sam are hard pressed to understand this one. Witches, ghosts, demons, and a teenage boy might be more than they can handle. Rated M for language and violence.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural. The great Eric Kripke and a whole lot of other folks do, and I'm borrowing without permission. I'll put them back when I'm done, unharmed. I'm not making any money from this, it's purely for entertainment purposes.

Author's Note: This story is set in an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE. That means that some faces, facts, and features may not exactly match what you remember from canon. Don't like AU stories, don't read.

SPOILER WARNING: Spoilers for all seasons up to and including season 3 finale, "No Rest For the Wicked." NO SEASON 4 SPOILERS. Becomes AU just before NRFTW.

Beta'd as always by the wonderful Ithil-Valon. You keep me honest, and I'm so glad to give you such pleasure with finished products. Thanks so much for being there. hugs

Part One

Dean Winchester was face down into a newspaper, marking it up with a pen. So far, he didn't have much to go on, though. "Sam, you got anything?" He was bored. They'd been at Bobby's for a week, looking for a way to break that damn deal, and nothing. He'd suggested looking for a hunt. They had some time left, just not a lot. A couple of weeks anyway. And he was going stir crazy.

"I might." Sam's voice was carefully neutral. He didn't want to give up any time left with his brother, but on the other hand, they were both down to tunnel vision and that didn't help any research. "Town called Questa, in New Mexico. Reports of murdered waitresses from the truck stop there. Get this: All the victims are young, blonde, green-eyed girls."

"So what makes that our kind of job?" Dean asked as he came over to peer at the screen. "No mention of supernatural occurrences or anything."

"All the girls went missing on the same day each week. A Wednesday. All times of death seem to be around the same time. Midnight. And the police are finding no signs of struggle, no foul play at all. Except one. All the victims were missing the same body part."

"And it doesn't say which one." Dean thought for a moment. It was common practice for cops to withhold a key piece of evidence, in hopes someone would trip up and mention it. "Still doesn't mean it's our kind of gig."

"No... but there was a murder there ten years ago." Sam's face took on a look Dean recognized all too well. "Trucker named Harlan James carved up his wife because she was seeing another man. And she was young, blonde, and had green eyes." His own hazel eyes were flashing with suppressed excitement. "James died in prison three years ago."

Dean straightened up and stretched. "Load up, Sasquatch. Gotta be better than sitting around here waiting for time to run out. We shag ass, we can be there by noon tomorrow."

* * *

Jack Bryant stood at the side of the road and debated. He knew he had to pick a direction, he just didn't know which one it should be. He had to get out of town before he decided on anything else; but he also needed to have some sort of destination in mind. He just knew he had to get out of town and quick.. His mom was dead, and whatever killed her might be coming for him next.

His mom hadn't minced words with him, either, once she'd decided he was old enough to understand what she was telling him. She'd told him about the things that hid in the darkness, the evil that walked the world when most of it slept peacefully and unafraid. And she knew about them because of Jack's father. He'd saved her from one of them when they were both much younger, still kids themselves. An angry spirit, she'd said, and then proceeded to explain to Jack that such things did, indeed, exist.

Jack had demanded angrily why she hadn't told him before, and then proceeded to vent his fury on a father that hadn't made an attempt to be there for them, that had basically abandoned them. And Virginia Bryant had set him straight in a hurry, her voice as sharp as a whipcrack. It hadn't been his decision, she'd explained succinctly, but not without heat. She hadn't known about Jack before his father had gone on to another hunt, and she had made a conscious decision not to track him down to tell him. He didn't need that burden, she went on, he didn't need to know he had a kid when HE was only a kid himself. Never mind that neither of them had been quite sixteen yet. He didn't need that kind of distraction on the hunt, or he could get killed.

Jack had then gone nearly nuclear about why she'd never mentioned the man before then, why she'd never told Jack his name. Virginia hung her head, clearly unwilling to discuss it further, before meeting his eye again and taking a deep breath. "Because," she'd said softly, "because if you knew who he was, you'd try to find him. It's safer for you BOTH if you don't. You have to trust me on this one, Jack."

He'd subsided into sullen silence, but she was adamant. She wasn't going to tell him one more thing about his father. No matter what he did, or how long he gave her the silent treatment, she wouldn't say one more word about the man who'd fathered him. Except one very telling remark she'd made nearly a month before this night; that he looked more like his father every day, especially since he'd started wearing his hair short.

That was a start, but it really didn't tell him which way to go.

The foster parents he'd been placed with when his mom died were okay folks, but he couldn't go back there. The Clarksons didn't deserve anything bad to happen to them, and if the demon was looking for HIM now, it would. Besides, they didn't like music, and that was quite simply a crime.

He lowered himself to sit on the curb for a moment. It was dark, and he was wearing darker colored clothes, so he should be safe from detection for the moment. Besides, he'd left enough pillows under the covers in his bed that they should still think he was there until morning. Then he started thinking again. Which way to go?

He pulled out the iPod his mother had given him for his thirteenth birthday and stuck the buds in his ears. Maybe some decent music would help him clear his mind. He knew he could take care of himself fairly well. He wasn't too tall, but he had some muscle to him. If he could just decide which way to go, he could hitch until he figured out what to do next. And along the way, he could keep an eye out for anything weird or unusual enough to draw the attention of his father.

West, he decided with a snap of his fingers. He wasn't sure why, but he felt somehow _pulled _in that direction. And with the decision made, he cranked up his latest obsession - an old group called, appropriately enough, Bad Company - and started walking. He'd catch a ride when he got to the highway.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural. The great Eric Kripke and a whole lot of other folks do, and I'm borrowing without permission. I'll put them back when I'm done, unharmed. I'm not making any money from this, it's purely for entertainment purposes.

Author's Note: This story is set in an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE. That means that some faces, facts, and features may not exactly match what you remember from canon. Don't like AU stories, don't read.

SPOILER WARNING: Spoilers for all seasons up to and including season 3 finale, "No Rest For the Wicked." NO SEASON 4 SPOILERS. Becomes AU just before NRFTW.

Part Two

Jack carefully looked around before creeping out of his hiding place on the semi's bed. Flatbed truck, easy to hop, and plenty of things to hide behind; he hadn't hesitated when the opportunity presented itself. For all he knew, he was a fugitive now. He'd have to find a way to get the news from home and see if the police were looking for him. He doubted it; runaways were usually low priority if they stayed out of trouble. But he'd be careful just the same. And so thinking, he hefted his backpack and headed inside the truckstop the driver had chosen.

It wasn't hard to find a booth. He slid in to the first available seat and looked around, trying to scope the place without looking like that was what he was doing. He'd had to learn fast, on the road. In only two weeks, he'd had enough close calls from people who thought he was just too sweet-looking for words; he didn't want any more. Although he HAD used that to his advantage when he realized what was happening.

The last one was a lady who had picked him up in Limon, just off I-70. He'd ridden with her into Colorado Springs, keeping himself quiet and aloof, trying not to seem too much like he was dangerous although he thought he was probably not safe to be around. If that demon followed him...

She'd been nice. She hadn't tried to touch him, like some of the truckers had, and she'd bought him a meal. And then, when she let him off in Colorado Springs to pick up Interstate 25 south, she'd passed him an envelope and told him that she didn't expect to be paid back. She wanted him to turn around and help the next person in line. Said it was what a good Christian would do. She'd made him promise not to open it until she was out of sight, and he'd waited, since she'd been so insistent.

The envelope held a hundred dollars in tens, fives, and ones. He'd remembered the things his mother had drilled into him and said a grateful prayer for the salvation she'd provided; he hadn't known where his next meal was coming from. The iPod was history. He'd sold it in Goodland, Oklahoma, for a meal and a place to crash for the night.

He looked over a menu that the waitress brought him and gave her a smile. "Just a coke, please, and a cheeseburger." He had to make the money last, so he was resisting temptation to order a lot of food. He could go for quite a while on just the burger. Then he opened his notebook and read over the facts he'd collected about Questa, New Mexico. Maybe, just maybe, it might bring his father here. If not, he might be able to do something to lay the spirit to rest. He'd done a LOT of learning on the road.

* * *

Dean pulled the Impala into a vacant space in front of the diner and shut off the car, carefully not looking at Sam. He knew his time was limited, and he didn't want Sam reminding him of it every chance he got. Besides, they'd need to talk to the locals here, as well as in town, to try and get a little more information about the missing girls. "You get anything else while we were on the road, Sammy?"

Sam shook his head. "We can check with the waitresses, I guess. The stuff I got from Bobby and the news reports just said they were all young, blonde, pretty, green-eyed, and worked as waitresses. All four were found within a ten mile radius, and all four were missing the same body part." He gave Dean a speculative look. "You know, blonde, pretty, green eyes, that's a pretty accurate description of you, Dean. Except you're a little butch for the part." He grinned widely and got out of the car, and then his smiled faded.

Dean pretended to sulk as he got out and then leaned on the top of the Impala. "Hey, you're just jealous," he returned evenly. Then he registered the change in Sam's expression and he pushed off and moved around to stand next to his brother. "Trouble?"

"N-no, I don't think so. See the kid in the corner?" Sam nodded toward the back booth. "Looks a little worn around the edges, I think Dad would have called it." Yeah, he would have. It was a roundabout way of saying the kid was running like hell.

Dean followed his gaze and frowned slightly. "Runaway. Come on, Sam! We try to help every kid we come across, we'll be too busy to hunt." He wasn't about to break his unwritten rule and mention that Sam would have plenty of time after he was gone to help this kid and any others he might run across. Nope. Sam was gonna find a way to save him. He held to that like a lifeline. The kid took up most of his attention, though. Looked like he'd been running hard, skinny as a rail and eyes like a wounded animal. "Go get us a table, Sammy, I need to hit the head."

Sam glared at him for a moment before relenting. "Okay, fine. I'll get a table." But he couldn't shake the feeling that the kid needed something, and worse, needed it from them. Focus, he reminded himself firmly. Find the ghost, take care of it, and then worry about the kid. Still, he took a booth fairly close to the boy and signaled the waitress. "Coffee, please, and a couple of menus." He looked up as she wrote and smiled. Young, blonde, pretty, with green eyes. Perfect. "Know a good motel nearby?"

She gave him a shy smile in return. "Well, there's the boarding house," she replied thoughtfully. "Not really a boarding house, that's just what we call it. Linda's place, right up the road from here, can't miss it. And the specials today are the mushroom burgers, comes with fries and slaw, soup of the day is broccoli cheese, and there's all kinds of fresh baked pies for dessert."

"Sounds good. I'll have that and whatever Dean wants when he comes back." Sam was paying attention to his brother with one eye over the girl's shoulder. Bathroom break, his foot. Dean was chatting up one of the other girls. Of course, he wouldn't begrudge big brother some fun; but they needed to stay focused and do the hunt first. He watched as money changed hands and stifled the grin that almost surfaced. No, Dean wasn't worried about the boy. Not at all. He'd just sent the kid some dessert. "Just up the road, you said? Anything else I should know about this place? The town, I mean." Oh, great, Sam, subtle as a bulldozer, he thought with an inward wince. Maybe it would get answers anyway.

"Yup. About a mile, on the left." She got that thoughtful look again, and then grinned. "If you like ghost stories, we've got one. Folks say this stretch of road is haunted. Local guy cut up his wife a few years back, got sent to prison for it. Only nobody thinks he really did it." She winked as she started to turn back to her job. "You know ghost stories. I'll be back with your coffee in a sec."

Sam kept an eye on Dean as he finished his conversation and headed back to the table. He'd waited until he'd seen the pie being delivered to the kid in the corner before starting back, and Sam hastily averted his gaze to his now open laptop in an attempt to hide the fact that he'd been watching the display. Dean didn't like people to catch him being nice, at least not like that. He looked up as Dean slid in across from him. "What took you so long? Never mind, I don't want to know. Look here." He repeated the waitress' ghost story and then pointed to what he'd put on the screen. "Looks like our trucker was a little weird to start with. Jealous, too. Put out his wife's eye when he thought she was watching another man. Seems pretty cut and dried -- but I can't find where he's buried. If he died at the prison, like it says, there should be a record. It's gone. So is the death certificate. And all the other records of his existence. Wiped clean."

Dean read it over carefully as the waitress left Sam's meal and poured him some coffee when Dean turned his own cup over absently. "You didn't order for me, dude? You know what I like." He gave the girl his order while he read and waited until she left to give Sam a pointed look. "So we do the next best thing. We find out who his buddies were, where his family is if he's got one, if they claimed the body, and start from there."

Sam shook his head and made certain his voice was soft. "Keep it down, will you? That's what I'm saying, Dean. There's nothing. No birth certificate, no death certificate, no housing records, nothing. No evidence this guy ever even existed." He gave a small nod of his head toward the kid, who was applying himself eagerly to the slice of cherry pie he'd been given. "Dean, there's something about him. I can't explain it." He gave his brother a piercing look, trying to remind him without words that sometimes -- sometimes, he knew things. And he didn't always understand what he knew until it slapped him in the face.

Dean kept quiet until the waitress had left again and picked up a french fry. "Nothing? Come on, Sam, there has to be something. You call Bobby yet?" He left alone, for the moment, the thought that Sam's powers might be resurfacing. He did NOT want to go down that road, not with his expiration date coming down to the wire. If he wasn't here, Sam could go darkside, and that would not only be bad, that would be... he shied from the thought again.

"Not yet. No time, I just found this." Sam shook his head as he sipped at his coffee. "It's like this guy never existed. Something's purged every record of him except his intake physical at the prison." He half turned and stole another glance at the boy before turning back. The kid was totally engrossed in something in his notebook and apparently didn't notice. "He's running from something, you saw it too. I can feel lit. And there's something about him, Dean, I can't -- I can't keep my mind on the job." He didn't have to explain any further and he knew it. In their line of work, distraction could mean death.

Dean growled back. "Dammit, Sam! We need to stay focused or some other poor girl is gonna end up dead. We need to catch this thing and do it quick."

"Sometimes it's just not that easy, Dean!" Sam shot back, his voice intense for all it was soft. "I seem to remember someone having a panic attack on a plane and not concentrating much." He looked up as a shadow fell across the table and met the eyes of the boy they'd been watching. His jaw dropped a fraction.

Jack had kept his eyes on them when he was certain they weren't looking his way. At first, it had creeped him out a little that they were so interested in him, but then he'd decided they were harmless. And one of them had decided he needed cherry pie, that was a plus. Then, when he'd made up his mind, he got up and walked toward their table. It wasn't far; but his mind wouldn't quit telling him he was completely nuts for what he was about to do. He made sure he kept his voice soft, as well, when he got there. "I heard some of what you were talking about. You guys are hunting the ghost trucker, right? I... I might be able to help you. And once it's gone, you can help me. Deal?"

**TBC...**


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural. The great Eric Kripke and a whole lot of other folks do, and I'm borrowing without permission. I'll put them back when I'm done, unharmed. I'm not making any money from this, it's purely for entertainment purposes.

Author's Note: This story is set in an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE. That means that some faces, facts, and features may not exactly match what you remember from canon. Don't like AU stories, don't read.

SPOILER WARNING: Spoilers for all seasons up to and including season 3 finale, "No Rest For the Wicked." NO SEASON 4 SPOILERS. Becomes AU just before NRFTW.

DEDICATION: This story is dedicated to my darling AJ, without whom I would never have gotten through the rough times. Little did we know the roughest time was still ahead. Rest in peace, my darling. I will always love you and miss you.

**Part Three**

Dean regarded the kid steadily. No outward signs of possession, but there was still something eerie about the way he moved so quiet. Not to mention the fact that he'd apparently been eavesdropping on them. Kind of pissed him off, but he'd get over it. "What kind of help you looking for, kid?" he asked softly.

Sam kept silent, watching. Something was about to happen, he could feel it, but he couldn't explain it. He couldn't even tell if it was good or bad. Something was poking at the edges of his consciousness and he shushed it absently, not even thinking. He'd settle for watching, for the moment.

Jack watched Dean in turn and made the final leap of faith. In for a penny, in for a pound, his mom had said repeatedly. "I'll help you, and then you help me find the demon that killed my mom. It looked human... but its eyes were white, pure white, nothing else. And it's looking for me, now, since it got my mom. I'll help you and you help me find it and kill it." He was carefully avoiding their eyes; he sounded nuts and he knew it. Would they help or would he be on his own again? He didn't want to be alone against that thing.

Dean had to hold in a start of surprise. Lilith? Was she already hunting them? Not good, no way was that good. "How do you think you can help us?" he asked softly as he glanced across at Sam for his reaction.

Sam was having trouble concealing his own shock. Maybe it was a different demon? No, it couldn't be. And it didn't really matter, not now. "You said it killed your mom?"

Jack nodded and slid in beside Sam when he moved over. "Look. I know I sound nuts, okay? But I can help you. I've been following signs and... and, well, supernatural stuff for over a month now. I came here because I heard rumors about the ghost and I thought maybe I might find someone who knew about this stuff, someone who'd believe me. And I've been hitching, so I've heard other things, too. The truckers are scared. The one I came in with? I overheard him at the last stop. He said you couldn't pay him enough to stay here overnight." He hauled up his backpack and sat it in his lap, almost protectively. "It's not just pretty blonde chicks with green eyes that are dying. Four trucks have disappeared out of this stop without a trace in the last two weeks. Driver got in, headed out of the lot, and just vanished. Never arrived at destination, never seen by anyone along the way. Just poof." He looked uncertain for a moment and they could see him gathering his courage. "I know there are people out there who hunt this stuff. I want to find them so I can learn. Then I want to kill that thing. My mom was all I had."

Dean took a deep breath and muttered "Christo" under his breath. No reaction from the kid, and that was good, but there would be more tests. Paranoia, thy name is Winchester, he thought randomly. "What's your name, kid?" A lie would tell them a lot, though there was little chance of checking it at the moment.

"Jack Bryant." The words came out on a rush of relieved air and Sam gave him a small, meant to be reassuring smile. "Look, I just want to learn. I want to know more about this stuff so I can find that thing and kill it. I want to get even for my mom, and I want to find my dad. And if I can help you, then maybe you can help me with all that." He pointed at Dean's amulet. "There's a picture of that in here." He pulled a book out of his worn and battered backpack and opened it, leafing through until he found the photo he wanted. "It's a Mesopotamian Bull-man pendant. He protects people who fight evil and chaos."

Sam had to catch his breath. Jack seemed to know at least a little about what they hunted, which calmed him a little, but not much. Then the tickle became a determined poke and he glared across the table at Dean, though his words were for Jack. "You said you were looking for your dad, too? Who is he, maybe we can start on that now." He had a feeling he knew who the boy's dad was and it wasn't going to be pretty if he was right.

Dean arched an eyebrow at the glare but he figured he could find out what was up Sam's ass later. "Nice book. What's your mom's name? If a demon had her targeted, there's a reason, maybe we can come up with it." Yeah, like that had worked so well for him and Sam. It had taken almost twenty years to learn the truth about it, and he didn't want to consider just what it had cost them both. "Could take a while to find your dad, you okay with that?"

"Yeah, that's okay, as long as you hold up your end of the bargain and help me learn." Jack wasn't going to take no for an answer, either, and it was obvious in the stubborn set of his jaw. "Her name was Virginia Bryant. We lived in Madison, Ohio. And she never told me the guy's name, just that he... hunted ghosts and supernatural stuff. That if anything ever happened to her, I should try to find him. That he'd protect me. And she got me books and everything, told me I needed to know about this stuff, because demons and spirits were everywhere and they were dangerous." He met Dean's eye and there was no longer fear or concern in his. "If you can't help me, say so. Or if you don't want to. I get it. I sound like a freak."

Sam had chosen the wrong moment to drink his coffee. He barely kept from choking when it went down the wrong way with his surprised intake of breath. He and Dean regularly referred to each other as freaks, and this kid, this boy, he looked so driven, so... oh, hell. His eyes went back to Dean's and the suspicion became a full-fledged realization. Jack's eyes, so like Dean's, and Jack had known about the amulet. "You said you don't know your dad's name?" He was still glaring at Dean, but now he knew why he'd been upset.

Dean closed his jaw with a snap. Now was not the time. "So you've got no idea who he is," he said easily. "Okay, here's the ground rules. You do what we tell you, no arguments. One of us says run, don't even ask how fast. Just go. Got it?" He glared back at Sam. "We'll see what we can find out, but right now, we need to deal with whatever it is haunting this stretch of highway."

Sam held Dean's eye for a moment more and then nodded. Priorities, always priorities. Still, he had a random thought that Dean sounded a LOT like their dad just then. Unquestioning obedience, that was what John had demanded of them, and Dean had soaked it up like a sponge. Sam hadn't been quite so eager to please. Resolutely he hauled his thoughts back to the present.

Jack grinned and then lifted out a smaller book. "Yes, sir. I think I might have an idea, though. I lifted this from the library in the last town. It's a local history, tells about all the local ghosts, stuff like that. Including a truck driver that killed his wife a few years ago, tore out her eye because he thought she was watching another man." He dropped the book on the table, open to the relevant chapter. "The wife was young, blonde, pretty, and a waitress, and she had green eyes. But I can't find any other history about him, just a name. Said he died in prison but I couldn't even find out which one."

Dean grinned then. "You and Sammy think a lot alike. Maybe you should be comparing notes. While I eat." He took a huge bite of his burger and tried to smile around it.

Sam smiled a bit too. "You still hungry, Jack? Go on, I can't finish it." He pushed the rest of his meal over, though to be fair, there wasn't much left. A few french fries, a full bowl of slaw. Nothing much to feed a growing boy, but it'd be a start. "I found our friend's prison, anyway. About a hundred miles from here, a little hole in the wall place called Chama. But that's all I found, too. All the records were blanked, erased somehow. I can't even find a death certificate, although your book seems to tell the same thing. Harlan James killed his wife, gouged out one of her eyes before the police caught up with him, and was sentenced to life in prison. Life turned out to be about ten years, too. He died in Jicarilla State Prison in Chama."

Jack nodded in defeat. "That's all I had, too, is what was in the book. That, and, well, one of the waitresses fits the description." He blushed and looked down for a moment. "I was gonna hang around and see if it came after her tonight. It'd be about the right timing for the ghost, and salt drives ghosts away, right?"

Dean finished off his burger and regarded Jack steadily again, his mind working in about six different directions. "Yeah. Salt hurts most supernatural things, spirits, demons, and just in general nasty stuff. So does iron. It won't kill them but it'll slow them down." He glanced over at the waitress Jack had singled out. "Any suggestions on how to keep her safe? I've got a few ideas." His grin quickly became a leer.

Sam shook his head with a grimace. "Give you a pretty girl to watch, Dean, and you're set for life," he grumbled good-naturedly. "I think we need to focus on ideas that are a little more..." He cleared his throat as he flicked his eyes toward their erstwhile young partner. "Never mind. You keep her busy, we'll see if we can't scare this thing up."

Jack's eyes widened slightly and then he forced himself to chill out. "You're really gonna let me go with you." He hadn't been sure, until now, that they would. He scrabbled in his bag again. "Here. It's the only picture I could find of the guy, and it's a lousy picture, but it'll help a little. I hope."

Dean ignored Sam for a moment as he stretched out and checked on the girl, and then he leaned back over the table. "You said some of the truckers were disappearing too, kid? You got descriptions on them?"

Jack nodded. "That doesn't fit the pattern, though. James only killed his wife, and apparently these waitresses who looked like her. But some of the truckers have disappeared, just the same, around the same time as the waitresses." A sudden thought hit him and he blinked. "Wait. The trucks, the ones that disappeared, they were all from the same company, I think. Transcon United? Can you look on that thing?" He gestured at Sam's laptop.

Sam was already tapping keys. The kid had good instincts, he thought idly. It was something he and Dean would have checked soon enough. "Yeah, same company. And get this." He turned the laptop around so the others could see it properly. "All the truckers were blond and green-eyed, too. Dean, you could be in trouble, dude." He grinned, sure the jibe would hit home.

Dean glared at Sam before scanning the page. He had only been half listening to the conversation, preferring to let the information percolate in his own head to see if he could make any sense of it that way. "Why would I be in trouble?"

Jack rolled his eyes. "Duh, dude. Blond, green eyes? Wake up and smell the coffee," he grumbled. "He drove for Transcon United. So, he killed his wife for looking at another man, maybe he's killing guys like the one she was giving the eye?"

"So what, we've got dead waitresses, missing truckers, a couple of missing drifters, and one ghost." Dean ignored Jack's sarcasm and looked off into the middle distance, thinking hard.

Sam nodded in turn. "That's what we've got. Dean, we're going to have to watch you, too. You fit the profile of the male victims. So, we'll have to plan a little better for contingencies."

"What contingencies?" Jack asked quietly. If something happened to them, he'd be on his own again, and he wasn't at all fond of the idea. Maybe he should do some planning of his own.

Dean rolled his eyes at both of them. "Jack, relax. I can handle myself. So, the missing drivers worked for the same outfit James did. Maybe he got fired and is looking at some payback." He grinned at the waitress when she came over to check on them.

Sam got the check and paid the waitress, adding a decent tip. "Let's move this somewhere else, guys," he said simply as he began to gather his laptop and stuff. "We can't hang out here too long. Come on, Jack."

Jack said nothing but he stuck the book back in his bag and looked thoughtful as he trailed after Sam. He was hoping these two were on the level. Of course, they sounded as crazy as he did, so he should be safe on that score anyway. And they didn't seem like the dude he'd almost hooked up with in Illinois, either. That one had wanted a little something more than a navigator when he picked Jack up and Jack had barely escaped unscathed. Nonetheless, he had a good feeling about these two for some reason.

Dean tossed Sam the keys and gave the waitress a winning smile. "Sorry if we were any trouble," he remarked quietly as he added a little to the tip. He had slipped effortlessly into flirt mode and his smile grew a bit wider when she winked back at him and pressed a folded square of paper into his palm. She turned to walk away and he cleared his throat softly. She fit the profile to a T. Blonde, green eyes, and more than pretty. He had to forcibly yank his libido back into line. Work first, play later. "Think maybe we could get a beer later?"

"Maybe," she replied with another wink. "I get off at nine." And with that, she whirled away.

Sam had gotten into the Impala on the driver's side, since Dean had so thoughtfully handed him the keys. It was a rare thing that he got to drive and he intended to enjoy it. "First rule of the car, Jack, is that the driver picks the music and the rest of us suffer," he said with a soft laugh. "So if you don't like classic rock, you'd better find an iPod or mp3 player quick." He sat still for a moment and then moved over, sighing. He knew better. Dean wasn't going to let him drive yet. It was still daylight, and Dean was wide awake. He swiveled to watch Jack in the back seat. "The waitress mentioned a place just up the road here, Linda's place I think. See what you can find, okay?" It was a small test of the kid's skills, but should be easily handled. Most kids could out-Google Sam, these days.

Jack opened the laptop and made the wireless connection quickly. "Looks pretty tame, if you ask me," he said idly. "Old lady owns it, been around here all her life, it says. Maybe she can tell us something we don't already know." He glossed over the reference to the music. His mom had listened to some strange stuff, and he had some pretty widely varied tastes himself. He could handle anything that came out of the speakers except classical garbage. But one of the items caught his eye and he drew in a deep breath.

Sam heard Jack's gasp but he was a bit distracted watching Dean. His thoughts were running circles in his head. Would Dean tell the boy? Did Dean even realize it? Was it better to say nothing? Sam didn't know and he hated the confusion the situation was generating. It was messing with his head again and on a hunt, that was a bad thing to have happen.

Jack sat still for a moment. "Hey, Sam. I just hit the jackpot, I think." He turned the screen toward his companion. There was a page loaded with the history of the boardinghouse. "I know I said the owner was older and might know something, but check this out. Her last name? It's James."

_**TBC…**_


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural. The great Eric Kripke and a whole lot of other folks do, and I'm borrowing without permission. I'll put them back when I'm done, unharmed. I'm not making any money from this, it's purely for entertainment purposes.

Author's Note: This story is set in an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE. That means that some faces, facts, and features may not exactly match what you remember from canon. Don't like AU stories, don't read.

SPOILER WARNING: Spoilers for all seasons up to and including season 3 finale, "No Rest For the Wicked." Becomes AU just before NRFTW. Season 4 spoilers ahead…

DEDICATION: This story is dedicated to my darling AJ, without whom I would never have gotten through the rough times. Little did we know the roughest time was still ahead. Rest in peace, my darling. I will always love you and miss you.

**Part Four**

Dean left the diner and slipped into his beloved Impala before looking at the phone number he'd been given with another smile. "Might be able to find out more about the area later," he remarked idly to the air. Then he looked over at Sam. "What? You guys get something already?"

Sam gave him a half smile. "More than you think, jerk," he grumbled. He nodded his head to Jack, who gave him the "you tell him I'm not opening my mouth" look. "Jack gets the credit. Seems the woman who runs the motel we're headed for is our ghost's mother."

Jack did pipe up, then, his voice excited. "_And_ she's lived her all her life, _all_ of it, so if there's anything else to know, she probably knows it."

Dean raised an eyebrow at Sam. "Bi-." He cut off the word before it was finished to avoid offending the youngster. He seemed like a good kid and Dean didn't want to corrupt him unnecessarily. "Okay, so we talk to Mama James and find out just what the hell is going on around here. Maybe she'll even tell us where the body is buried, since you guys haven't found that yet."

Jack growled low in his throat at the censure. He'd heard the words, he'd even used them. "Look, I'm not trying to cramp your style, guys," he grumbled as he turned his eyes back to the screen. "I _know_ the words, okay? I'm not a baby." He heard Sam choke off a laugh and set his jaw. He knew he sounded a little defiant but that was how he felt. "I'm thirteen. And if you think I haven't heard worse, _used_ worse in the locker room, you're nuts." He gave Dean a shrewd glance through the rearview, noting that his expression had become a little pensive. "You think you're gonna dump me off somewhere, tell me now so I can hoof. I'll make it on my own. Or whatever."

It was all Sam could do to keep from just howling with laughter. Watching Dean try to deal with this boy was nothing short of rib-splitting. Jack seemed to be some kind of mini-Dean and it was priceless watching his brother deal with a mirror personality.

Dean scowled at Sam and then shook his head. "I was thinking about setting you up with an older hunter we know," he explained patiently. "Planning for the future." He put the car in gear and made the short drive to the motel, letting the engine idle again outside the office. "How do we want to handle this?" he asked Sam quietly.

"Whoa, wait a minute, what future?" Jack squabbled quickly. He'd been right, they were going to shove him off on someone else to train. It was a huge disappointment, especially since he thought they were way cool anyway. "Why can't you two train me? I already said I'd do what you told me and not argue. You two know what you're doing. You're doing all the things I'd do if I was going after this ghost myself. So why can't I stay with you guys?" He was getting a weird vibe, like they wanted him to stay with them, and at the same time, he was weirding them out somehow. He didn't get it.

Sam sighed heavily. He had to say something here. "He's got us, Dean," he said slowly. "Dad trained us, and he was one of the _best_ hunters, remember? At least, that's what everyone keeps telling us. And you know Bobby says the same thing, and he wouldn't lie about something like that. So that makes us the logical choice." He shook his head and reached for the door handle. "It won't be easy, not with Lilith out there, but we have to do it. Otherwise he'll get himself killed." He took a look around the parking lot at the comfortable little motor lodge. "This place doesn't look too bad, really."

Jack watched them with bated breath. Would Sam's argument hold weight with Dean? He wasn't sure. But he hoped so. These guys, they seemed to 'fit' with him somehow. He couldn't explain that, either, even to himself. But he felt like he needed to be with them, at least until he found his dad.

Dean growled a little himself and then shrugged, letting himself out of the car and standing up straight, giving the place his own assessing gaze. He turned and looked Jack over carefully, too, and had a moment's pause when those green eyes met his fearlessly. Maybe Ginny hadn't been as protected as he thought. Nah, it was only one time, surely not. But even so, the resemblance was close. "Okay. You can stay, but remember no arguments. I get enough of them out of geek boy over here." He jerked his head in Sam's direction. "And remember, we say run, don't wait for a start signal. Just book it out of wherever we're at."

"Deal." Jack was delighted but he thought he was covering it well. Dean wasn't all that bad, for all he came across as a hardass. He got out and then shifted everything so he could get his hand free and offered it to Dean. "Mom always told me never to shake on a deal unless you mean it. It's a contract and you have to keep it if you shake. So I'm agreeing to be a good student and do what I'm told without arguing. Shake on it."

Sam watched them carefully as Dean solemnly shook the boy's hand. The feeling that this was somehow a turning point wouldn't leave him. That this decision would affect all of them, and maybe be a strong influence in dealing with Lilith. That was the rub, he thought, he wasn't sure whether this would be an assist, or whether it would plunge them into the middle of something they couldn't handle. If Lilith came for them while they were distracted…

Dean pulled his hand back after the shake and gave Sam his full attention. "You two get us a room. I need to make a phone call." There was an eyebrow raised, though he was certain Sam would understand. He wanted to call Bobby and see if he could check out Jack's story. Maybe they could even track down his dad for him. Dean was still curious, but surely Jack wasn't his. He and Ginny had only been together once, so it wasn't likely.

Sam nodded and put a hand on Jack's shoulder. "Come on, Jack, let's get set up and settled in." It was going to be difficult, he know that, having the boy with them. It had been nearly impossible for their own father to raise them on the road, and they were about to try to emulate John's example. It was a sobering thought. Jack would have to be in school whenever they could arrange it, but if they enrolled him, it could be used against them. He was getting a headache trying to figure out how to handle it.

Dean watched them go into the office and then speed-dialed Bobby's number. He didn't have to wait long for the older man to answer, either, although the gruff greeting was a bit of a surprise. "I haven't found anything more than Sam did, if that's what you're callin' for."

"No, Bobby, that's not why I called," Dean explained slowly, his voice sounding tired. "I need you to check a couple things for me, under the table." He gave a quick glance over his shoulder to make certain the others hadn't come back out yet. "Need you to check on a woman named Virginia Bryant. Madison, Ohio. See if there's been anything supernatural happening around there, and who was involved if there was." He had a bad feeling in the back of his mind that he'd been very, very stupid all those years ago and Jack had paid the price.

"I take it there's more than just wanting to scare this gal up," Bobby returned evenly. "I'm not your social secretary, y'know." He still wrote down the name anyway. "You wanna tell me about this, or just leave me in the dark?"

"Yeah, okay." Dean ran his hand over his hair. "She… We…" Suddenly Dean was grateful they were talking on the phone and not in person. Bobby was as close to him as his own father, and he was going to be plenty pissed. "We had a thing, when we were kids. Once. Dad was working a job and I… damn. Find out about her kid, too. His name is Jack Bryant. He… I think he's mine, Bobby."

There was silence between them, almost long enough for Dean to wonder if the call had been dropped. "I'll check it out, then. What about your hunt? You gonna finish up there or get the hell out with the boy?" There was a note of irritation in his voice and Dean groaned inwardly. Bobby had never approved of John dragging them along on his hunts, either.

"Trucker's name was Harlan James." Dean closed his eyes against the censure in the other man's tone. Yeah, he was in deep shit when they got to Bobby's. "That's about all we've got, so far. Something's blanked all the records, nothing shows up. We know he died in the prison here but there's nothing. His intake physical is all we can find. No birth certificate, death certificate, no other records of any kind. See what you can dig up, okay?"

There was another moment of silence and then the older man spoke again, his tone resigned. "Yeah, I'll see what I can find. And Dean?"

"Yeah?" Here it comes, Dean thought quickly.

"You guys be careful, you get me? Idjit." And the call was disconnected.

Dean regarded the phone warily for a moment and the slipped it into his pocket. Yeah, Bobby was plenty pissed. But he'd also managed to reassure Dean, in an awkward, left-handed sort of way. "Idjit" from Bobby wasn't an insult at all. It was a fatherly sort of endearment.

He turned and went to the motel room. Maybe Sam had found something useful while he was outside.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural. The great Eric Kripke and a whole lot of other folks do, and I'm borrowing without permission. I'll put them back when I'm done, unharmed. I'm not making any money from this, it's purely for entertainment purposes.

Author's Note: This story is set in an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE. That means that some faces, facts, and features may not exactly match what you remember from canon. Don't like AU stories, don't read.

SPOILER WARNING: Spoilers for all seasons up to and including season 3 finale, "No Rest For the Wicked." Becomes AU just before NRFTW. Season 4 spoilers ahead…

DEDICATION: This story is dedicated to my darling AJ, without whom I would never have gotten through the rough times. Little did we know the roughest time was still ahead. Rest in peace, my darling. I will always love you and miss you.

Part Five

Sam looked around the room they'd been assigned with something akin to awe. It was a definite step up from what they usually stayed in. Homey, clean. Nice furnishings, not "motel cheap." A cot brought in for Jack, too, and no extra charge for the third person. All in all, a good place. It kind of shocked him.

Jack dropped his stuff and then himself onto the cot without asking if it was his. He knew better. They'd take the good beds and he'd sleep on the cot. He actually liked that they'd specified a bed for him, too; it meant they weren't after anything than what had already been agreed on.

Dean closed the door firmly behind him and assessed things quickly, coming to the same conclusion as Sam had. Way too nice for what they were used to. "Jack, you take the other bed, I'll take the cot. Move it." He dumped the rest of the bags on the floor and glanced around again, noting escape routes, and started setting protections. "Sam, Bobby's running all the checks on James to see what's out there. Just hope we find it before he gets his next victim."

Jack blinked but did what he was told. That was the sort of thing his mom would do, make sure he had the comfy bed and sleep on the cot. Not that this thing wasn't comfy. He wanted to sleep to make up for lost time. "Look, I don't mind the cot," he said evenly. "It's better than the side of the road. Or a nasty backseat." Still, he had moved his stuff like he was told and went ahead and stretched out on the bed. Comfortable wasn't the word. Heaven was closer. It had been weeks since he'd seen a real bed.

Sam watched Dean from under his lashes as he unpacked the necessaries. His laptop went on the table as always and the protections Dean was taking care of, so he turned to gather more supplies. Dean had apparently tumbled to the same conclusion Sam had, that Jack was his son. He didn't know how, he didn't know why. But the way demons worked, the way Evil worked, it might make sense in a strange, weird sort of way. If they could be distracted, what better way than to use family?

Damn it, he was getting a headache. Then his eyes widened before slamming shut in pain. It was one of _those_ headaches, the ones he'd gotten when he had visions. Those were supposed to be gone, so why now? He cried out at the sudden spike of pain and pitched forward, barely catching the edge of the table with his hands.

"Sam!" Dean lurched forward to help get his brother to the bed. "Easy, dude. Jack, look in the laptop case, there should be a bottle of pills. He needs one of them." He tried to move Sam to a more comfortable position and groaned. "Little help here, Sasquatch. You're heavy." Finally he had his brother laid completely on the bed, if not comfortably. "What's goin' on, Sam? Talk to me."

Jack scrambled across and found the bottle quickly, then got a can of soda from his precious stash. "Here. What's wrong with him?" He had never seen anyone get sick so fast, or sound like he hurt so much. Except his mom and he firmly pushed that memory out of his head quick. Not going there, not now, no way.

Sam was trying to catch his breath. Flashes were running across his mind, flashes of Jack, Dean, someone/something else that he couldn't identify. Something he couldn't see. And yet, over it all, were white eyes mocking him from the darkness. "I thought when we killed Azazel this was done," he panted, heels of his hands pressed to his eyes to keep them from popping out of his skull like they felt like doing. "Guess I was wrong." He had to try and make sense of the vision, make sense from nonsense, and the pain was making it really difficult to even make sense of his own name. "Eyes, Lilith's eyes…" His voice trailed off as he let himself relax onto the coverlet.

Dean growled something unintelligible as he held Sam's head up to get the medicine into him. Then he let the younger man lie back and set the soda onto the table as one hand scrubbed through his hair. "He'll be able to explain better once this lets go of him," he said quietly as he stepped back. He kept his disquiet to himself; he had thought that the psychic crap was done as well. What was Lilith up to now, and how did Jack fit into it?

"Psychic? You mean all that's real, too?" Jack's head was spinning. He sat down hard on his bed and then something else struck him. "Lilith? _The_ Lilith? Mother of all demons, serious hardass, second only to Lucifer in Hell Lilith? She's after you guys?"

Sam would have explained but he couldn't string two words together yet. The vision, what did it mean? _Was _Jack Dean's son? Had he been sent to throw them off balance? He didn't know. He couldn't puzzle it out and that was frustrating him badly. The glimpses he'd seen were too brief, too chaotic. He kept running them over in his head, but the pain was keeping them from gelling into something coherent.

Dean mouthed a word that Jack recognized but knew better than to repeat and turned to the kid. "Yeah, that Lilith," he said dryly. "Stuff going on here that makes us pretty dangerous to be around. Still think you want in on it?" He was giving the kid a chance to bail, but he was pretty sure it wouldn't happen. Especially if Jack _was_ his. Which certainly appeared to be the case.

"In on it? I'm in it whether I like it or not," Jack replied as he scooted to the edge of the bed. "A demon killed my mom trying to get to me. Even if I run, I'm gonna be looking over my shoulder. They're still out there. So yeah, I'm in. Safety in numbers, that's what Mom said." He shrugged.

Dean clapped the boy on the shoulder. He was more like Dean than even Dean wanted to consider. "Okay, but I warned you," he grumbled as he turned away and checked his weapon, then tucked it into his waistband under his jacket. "Think you can keep an eye on him while I do a little looking around?"

"I can try. What do I do if he does that again?" Jack was worried, but he didn't let that stop him. These guys would protect him if he needed it, he was sure. The least he could do was return the favor and right now it didn't look like Sam could fight off a flea, much less a demon. "I mean, do I give him more pills or what?" He gave a long look at the sleeping figure on the other bed.

"He shouldn't wake up for a while. Those pills are morphine and we gave him enough to knock down a horse," Dean explained patiently. He got out Sam's cell phone. "If this rings, check it. If it's Bobby, answer. He's another hunter we deal with. If something happens, you call me. If you can't get me, you call Bobby. Got it?" He ruffled Jack's hair instinctively, though he had hated the gesture as a child himself.

"You go do what you need to do," Jack replied firmly. "I've done this before, I can do it now." He knew he sounded off but he was telling the truth. Some of his mom's – _friends _– had come in drunk and he'd helped her put them to bed. It wasn't a big deal. It just meant he knew a lot more about life than he should, at the tender age of thirteen. "I'll keep an eye on him. Go on." He took hold of Sam's shirt and loosened the collar of the flannel but not removing it. Then he slipped off Sam's shoes and covered him up with the blanket from his own bed. "I'll call if anything happens, promise."

Dean gave Jack a strange look, but said nothing. If the kid had been in _that_ kind of trouble, he'd gladly follow Ginny to the afterlife to take a horse whip to her, but he didn't think so. Then he gave a small smile. "Okay. Keep the salt lines clear and take it easy, then. I'll be back in a bit." And he slipped out the door.

TBC…


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural. The great Eric Kripke and a whole lot of other folks do, and I'm borrowing without permission. I'll put them back when I'm done, unharmed. I'm not making any money from this, it's purely for entertainment purposes.

Author's Note: This story is set in an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE. That means that some faces, facts, and features may not exactly match what you remember from canon. Don't like AU stories, don't read.

SPOILER WARNING: Spoilers for all seasons up to and including season 3 finale, "No Rest For the Wicked." Becomes AU just before NRFTW. Season 4 spoilers ahead…

DEDICATION: This story is dedicated to my darling AJ, without whom I would never have gotten through the rough times. Little did we know the roughest time was still ahead. Rest in peace, my darling. I will always love you and miss you.

BETA: Shadow (all remaining mistakes I take full responsibility for *LOL*)

**Part Six**

**(Motel office)**

Linda James bent over her register again, checking the signatures. Those boys, the ones she'd put in room six, well, they were hiding something. It was obvious, at least to her. They had the look of hunters, really, but having a boy with them kind of made them look harmless. She hoped she was right. She didn't look up when the older one came in, though she was well aware of his placement in the office. "Can I help you, son?" she asked easily as she closed the register.

Dean gave her his best reassuring smile. She knew something, he was sure of it. She had the same feel of wariness about her he'd encountered before, when they'd been found out. Would they have to run from the police before they'd even gotten started here? He wasn't sure. "Just wondered if you could tell me where to get some supplies around here," he said evenly, assessing her silently.

Linda didn't want him to feel threatened, but she'd been running this place long enough that she could hold her own if threatened, at least long enough for the sheriff to get there. "Might be able to help you out, son, if you clear a couple things up for me," she said slowly. "Such as why you're going armed. And don't tell me otherwise, either. You're carrying, I know what to look for."

Dean blinked and hauled out one of his badges. "Federal agent, ma'am, here on an investigation," he said easily, although he felt anything but comfortable. She had him on edge and he was suddenly sure the usual line he and Sam used wouldn't work with her. And how was he going to explain Jack? A witness, that was it. If she asked. He was thinking fast.

"Some investigation," she replied with a tiny smile. "You're dragging that boy around with you why? Listen, son, I've been around the block more than a time or two, and I've seen some things that aren't easily explained. I know the signs, boy, I know the signs. More than one hunter has graced this establishment." She gave him a measuring glance, all traces of humor gone as quickly as they had appeared. "You're here for my Harlan, aren't you." It wasn't a question.

Dean couldn't cover the start of surprise her words gave him, but his discomfort evaporated immediately. "Um, yeah, I guess so, if he's causing the problem," he answered slowly. "Why do you think it might be him?"

"Because it is. And if I thought for one minute you could lay him to rest, I'd send you to him right this very minute." Linda held up a cigarette and looked to Dean as if for permission. She waited only for his nod before lighting up. "See, Harlan was a jealous bear when he was alive, and there's no reason for him to be any different now. But there was more going on than the police ever knew, see. Those women that died? And his wife? They were all cheating. All of them. Elaine, God rest her, she was cheating on my son from a week after they were married. Harlan caught her with the man one night and killed them both in a jealous rage."

Dean gave a heavy sigh. "I take it the guy was green eyed and blonde. Did you know he was taking truckers, too?" He ran a hand through his hair before taking out a little notebook.

"Not just truckers, son." The reply was calm and she took one last long pull from the cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray. "Any blonde, gree eyed wanderer who comes through here. At that, you'd best be watchful." She looked him up and down. "Yeah, you look the type. Real ladies' man, ain't ya? You watch yourself." Then the smile resurfaced suddenly, mischievous and sad at the same time. "And you keep that boy out of this, too, you hear me? He's got no business hunting, not at that age. Should be home with his mama, going to school."

Dean nodded. "Once we take care of things here, he's getting stashed safe," he explained quietly. "Since we're being blunt, can you tell me where the remains are? We'd like to get this done before someone else dies."

"See, that's the hard part." She waved the stub of the cig around a bit; lit or not, it was a habit, and she was hardly aware of it. "Harlan was cremated. There ain't no remains." She shook her head. "I know, it's impossible to have a haunt without remains. I told you, I've met hunters before. But there's just some ashes, and those are right here with me." She waved the cig behind her.

Dean blinked again but said nothing. She was right; there couldn't be a ghost without remains. Finally he was able to speak, though he couldn't understand the situation any better than she did. "What happened to his truck? Might be something in there, a little blood, a hair or two, maybe?" He was desperate to make this make sense.

She hardly gave it a thought. "It's out back. You think you can find anything, be my guest. I've been over it a hundred times. Only kept it because it was his." She looked him over once more. Knock yourself out, son. I'll make sure the staff knows that nothing's off-limits to you boys. Guess I'll watch a little TV while nothing's happening. And there's a 7-11 down the street a piece, you can't miss it, if y'all need food or anything. You just see what you can do about our wayward ghost, okay?" And she effectively ended the discussion by stepping into the office and closing the door.

**(Room Six)**

Sam was drifting, not quite awake or asleep. The morphine was helping the pain, but it was doing very little to ease the confusion in his mind. He hadn't had a vision since they had killed Azazel. He'd thought it was over. Why now? What did it mean? He was dimly aware of Jack telling Dean he could handle things - meaning Sam - and then Dean left. What the hell? If he thought he could take on that spirit alone... no. No, suicidally reckless wasn't Dean's style, not after they'd cleared the air when Gordon Walker had tried to kill Sam. Again. So he was only going to investigate while Sam rested, but something still wasn't right. The flashes he'd seen in the vision - Jack, Dean, and Lilith's white eyes - nothing added up. He groaned a little and tried once more to get comfortable.

Jack heard something outside and took a cautious peek out the window. He didn't think anything could get in here, not with all the work Dean had done when they arrived, but he was still careful. Then he scrambled over and unlocked the door. "He hasn't moved much," he said softly as he nodded toward Sam. "Kinda made a few noises in his sleep but nothing I could make out. Hope he's okay." He looked worried.

Sam heard him, as quiet as he was, but he didn't move or open his eyes. He was close, so close. He could feel it. Something about Jack, about Dean... about all three of them... in a warehouse? Truck hangar. A garage. A place where they worked on the big diesels. Something to do with this job, then, but he couldn't make out any more, not just now. And the fact that he was having visions again, it threw him completely off the track. Those abilities had seemed directly tied to Azazel, and they'd disappeared when he died. Something big was going to happen, he knew it, and he couldn't put his finger on it. The more he tried, the more confused everything got.

Dean glanced over at his brother and frowned. "He should wake up soon." He tossed a bag of peanut M&M's to the boy and dropped into a chair, keeping himself quiet as well. "Anything on the news?"

"Another trucker went missing last night." Jack's voice was still soft. He thought Sam might be awake already, had seen him twitch a bit, but he wasn't completely sure and he didn't want to wake him if not. Sam looked like hell, and if that yell was any indication, he was pretty sick from the headache and in a lot of pain. "Picture they showed looked like you," he said slowly as he tore open the bag and waved at the set, where the news was showing it again. "Thanks."

Sam groaned again, not so softly this time, as he rolled over and squinted at the screen. Then he put the heels of his hands against his eyes and held them there, as if to drive out the images plaguing him. "Dean, we need to be careful," he said slowly as he winced again and sat up. "There's something about this job. I can't get it to focus."

Dean merely grunted as he got up and handed Sam the bag of food. He snapped his fingers and retrieved something, handing it to Jack, before sitting back down again. He smirked slightly as the boy grinned over the chocolate milk. "The owner knows about us, about hunters, anyway," he said evenly as he regarded the TV instead of Sam. "She told me the staff would help if we needed it."

Sam blinked fuzzily before taking the bag and peering inside. Dean's idea of food tended to be on the greasy side and he wasn't sure what he'd find. He smiled when he found something halfway healthy and then took a deep breath against the pain of knowing Dean's considerate nature was hidden under a mountain of self-deprecation and the knowledge that his brother was still going to die in a matter of weeks unless he was able to break the deal. "Thanks. Listen, Dean, we need to call Bobby and see what he's found about this guy. Maybe we can talk this out. It's... it's about the three of us, and this job." He gave a significant glance over at Jack. The whole thing, somehow it involves Jack. I don't know how. I can't see it, just... flashes. You, me, him, and a truck hangar or something like it. Warehouse, maybe. Big enough for a whole fleet of trucks."

Jack finished his milk without choking, though the temptation was great. "You mean I could be some kind of catalyst, or something." He was glad he'd remembered the word, but he was getting a bad feeling about things, too. Sam looked really wrecked and Dean was listening _very_ carefully to his brother. Something was wrong.

"Didn't happen to see any names in those flashes, Sam?" Dean was waiting for Bobby to pick up. It was late; but the older man kept pretty much the same hours they did: dusk till dawn, and frequently. "Maybe the truck company has something to do with your vision." What was taking Bobby so long to answer? A cold feeling was settling into the pit of his stomach until the call was finally connected. "Hey, Bobby. Got more questions coming up here, you got a few minutes?"

Sam shook his head. "Sorry, Dean, it didn't work that way this time." He gave a rueful smile. "Jack, take it easy, okay?" He'd seen the careful shuttering of the boy's expression and knew he'd gotten insecure again. "You're in this, for what that's worth. We're not gonna let anything happen to you. That's a promise." He considered carefully while he ate. "Maybe... maybe you showing up was a good thing, Jack. It might be the positive part of this."

Jack nodded, slightly mollified. "But I won't let anything hurt you guys, either. We're in this together, right? You promised to help me find my dad." He had a few sneaking suspicions, after watching the two of them, that they knew much more than they were telling about the man who'd fathered him. But he wouldn't push. They were going to help him learn to hunt, and that was important, too.

Bobby was growling at Dean. "Hold your horses, son. I've got the stuff you asked for, Dean, but you're not going to like it." He was regarding the faxed copies he'd received with not a little disappointment. Still, he wanted Dean's side before he'd feel okay with shooting him. "Your Virginia Bryant, she had a kid, name of Jackson Dean Bryant. And she named you on the birth certificate. You wanna let me in on the big secret, now, or should I just crawl back under my rock and wait for you to decide what to do?"

Dean blinked and coughed hard for a second. He'd known Bobby would cut up stiff, but he hadn't been expecting this. "No on the rock, Bobby, in a minute. Another trucker went missing last night. Need to see what you can dig up on that." He looked over at Sam for a second and then at Jack. "Hey, Jack, you want to go clean up?"

"I can take a hint. I'll be back later." Jack headed for the door. Maybe they weren't going to help him after all. "I'll go hang out at the truck stop, see if I can find out anything there. They should have been talking about that disappearance while we were there, if it happened last night. Maybe I'll find something interesting." Like maybe a ride out of town if they took too long to come get him.

Sam glared at Dean for a minute before handing Jack a little money. "Go play some games or something. This won't take more than an hour, okay? We just need to lay out a few things, see if we can make sense of them, okay? We're not gonna abandon you, or anything. We'll come get you in an hour, maybe less."

"Why don't you try to charm a few more answers out of the owner? Jack, we just need to lay out a few things that you wouldn't understand yet. Don't want you breaking your brain trying to make sense of this stuff out of order." He put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Just not used to dealing with more than one kid at a time, okay?" He jerked his head toward Sam with a slight smile.

Jack glared, but then he grinned wickedly. "Sure, I'll go schmooze the old lady. Besides, she's got cookies. Just don't kill each other while I'm gone." He grabbed his jacket and slipped out the door. Dean called him back quickly and handed him a small container of rock salt.

"You know what to do with it if something happens." Then he watched as the boy pocketed it, smiled slightly, and left, closing the door firmly behind him.

Sam sat the container down the moment the door was closed and gave Dean his full attention. "Jack's yours, isn't he." It wasn't a question. "What else?"

Dean put Bobby on the speaker. "Sorry, Bobby, just had to get the kid out of the room for a few. She really listed me as his dad? Did she have a will or anything?" He was still trying to wrap his mind around being a father.

"Nothing that I've found yet." Bobby's words were gentle, now, but the news was still hard. "Sudden death, she probably didn't think she needed one. Died about six weeks ago, and the cops don't have a clue. Guess it was real bloody. The records are sealed, but someone's trying to get into them for me. Rumor has it a drifter broke in and hacked her up. Hunter in the area said the sulfur trace was off the map, though, and all the damage was localized. Jack's room. Not hers, not the guest room. The kid's. Like she was trying to protect him when it happened."

"We need to be watching for the cops?" Dean ran a hand through his hair as he thought about finding the kid only to lose him again. "Any indication what really got her?" He knew what Jack had told them, but he wanted to be sure. Sometimes he hated the paranoia that hunting had instilled in him.

"He's listed as a runaway," Bobby reassured them slowly. "Guess he just up and left the foster family he'd been placed with. No real effort being made to track him down. You know how it is with runaways, cops don't do much unless the kid gets in real trouble. He's kept himself pretty clean." There was the sound of rustling paper. "I'm sending a picture of the kid to your email, Sam, so you guys'll know you got the right one. Wouldn't put it past anything to have tried to slip you a ringer. I suppose you've done all the tests."

"And then some, Bobby, and he knows more than any kid his age should." Sam was pulling up the email while he listened and trying very hard not to look at Dean. He knew his brother had wanted kids, a family, but thought he'd never be able to have them because of the hunting. Family represented stability to Dean, everything he wished he'd had growing up and Sam wished this was easier for him. "He said a demon killed his mom, Bobby. Lilith."

Dean started pacing. He was more worried about Jack than ever. He'd probably have more than just harsh words for Dean when he found out the truth, since Dean hadn't been there for them. He wished he'd known. "The amount of sulfur, Bobby, was it the same level as they found in Sam's room?"

Bobby's reply was firm, but also full of compassion for the boys. "Pretty high levels. Major Demon of some sort, and not taking any care to hide its tracks. Kid's in a world of hurt if this thing's still after him. Not sure why, yet, unless it's the connection with Dean. We're still digging."

Sam watched Dean struggling with the revelations and groaned inwardly. "We'll keep a close eye on him, Bobby. What else have you got?" He was worried, too. Jack had supposedly only gone to the office. But it was awfully quiet out there, nearly dusk, and he could see the office from their window and there was no movement. "Dean?" He craned his neck to see around the lot, but there was no sign of anyone. "Jack was going to work on the old lady, right? There's nothing outside and no one visible in the office."

Dean was already gathering his gear. He didn't like the conclusions he was coming to; he thought they just might have to ditch the hunt and get Jack to the safety of Bobby's place. He just hoped he could live with whoever died before another hunter could get out this way. "You two talk, I'm gonna go find the kid."

TBC…


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural. The great Eric Kripke and a whole lot of other folks do, and I'm borrowing without permission. I'll put them back when I'm done, unharmed. I'm not making any money from this, it's purely for entertainment purposes.

Author's Note: This story is set in an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE. That means that some faces, facts, and features may not exactly match what you remember from canon. Don't like AU stories, don't read.

SPOILER WARNING: Spoilers for all seasons eventually I hope. Becomes AU just before NRFTW.

Part Seven

Jack was scrambling around James' rig in the back of the motel. Linda had told him he could, so he'd wanted to see what he could find. Probably nothing; he didn't know half of what his hunter friends did, but he could still look around.

She'd been nice to him, too, offering him cookies (which he'd hoped for in the first place) and a Coke, which he'd accepted gratefully. Then she'd suggested he go outside and look over the truck. There had to have been a reason.

He wasn't finding anything interesting, though. The whole thing had been stripped bare, and ten years of neglect had almost finished the job of destroying it. It was a rusted hulk full of a whole lot of nothing. No personal items remained, nothing of any value, just the seats and the dashboard.

It wasn't dark, not quite yet, but he was debating going back to the room for a flashlight. Surely it had been long enough that whatever they didn't want to talk about in front of him was over and done with. But he wasn't sure, and then before he could get completely down from the rig, he heard footsteps.

He spun quickly but it was only an old man with a bottle, wandering around behind the motel. Then the man saw him and ambled over. "Easy, son," he drawled amiably. "Mite jumpy, ain't ya? What's your interest in this old thing?"

Jack thought fast. "Just checking it out. Thought maybe I'd get some pictures of it. You know, for my scrapbook. I like trucks." It was the first thing that came to mind, but it seemed to mollify his visitor. Something about the man, though, was creeping him out. His fingers unconsciously closed around the container of salt in his pocket.

The bum gave him a shrewd look and then a grin. "Like stories, too? Guy that owned this rig, he went to prison for killing his wife, right? But that ain't all. He owned this cab outright, was a contractor for Transcon United. His cab, fair and square, but when he went away, the company took it and stripped it of anything that might be worth something. That's all that's left."

Jack stepped backward a foot or two, partly from the stench of unwashed body but more from something he couldn't yet understand. His fingers flipped open the container of salt. "But if it was his cab, then they had no right to do that," he replied with a snort. Yeah, it sounded like James had more than enough to become a vengeful spirit about. But he was still getting creeped out from the bum and not sure why.

"That's it exactly, kid." The bum made no move to get closer, but Jack wasn't letting go of that salt, either. "Kind of thing that would make a spirit walk, if you believed in them."

Comprehension flashed and Jack's breath left him in a rush. "You're him," he breathed softly. "You're the ghost."

"What, me? No way, kid, just looking for a quiet place to booze," the man returned with a sarcastic laugh. He held up the bottle. "I'd offer you some but you ain't old enough."

"Damn right he ain't old enough." Dean moved into view from around the front of the truck. "You get a kick out of scaring kids or something?" He was pissy but that was his son the old guy had been messing with. "Jack, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay." Jack didn't close the lid on the salt, though. Something was still off about the old man and he wasn't taking any chances. "Didn't find anything, either. Just a couple pictures for my scrapbook. If you've got your phone I can take them." He waited until Dean handed it over, snapped a couple shots, and handed it back, all while the bum looked on. It should establish that they were nothing more than travelers, even though he thought this guy knew a lot more than he was saying. He'd zeroed in on Dean, now, instead of Jack and there wasn't any reason for it, not really. Dean didn't have his weapon out or anything. He'd just come looking for the boy.

Dean was watching the bum, too. Something was off and then he saw what he thought was a shift of the light but he couldn't be sure. "Okay, Jack, you've had your fun, you got your pics, let's go get something to eat okay?" He started to draw them both away. One hand edged back, not enough to cause alarm, but enough that he could get to his gun if necessary. "Jack, this is one of those times," he said softly without turning his head. He could feel the bum getting closer. "Run!"

He turned and sprayed salt all over the guy and listened to the roar as the demon gave voice to pain. Iron rounds in his gun, they would hurt it but not banish it. And Sam was the one with the exorcism rituals in his head. He fired once and fled, hoping to get ahead of it enough to get into the room. Dawn would find them headed north, toward Bobby's. They'd get another hunter in here.

Then all thoughts were out of his head except getting away from the demon and to the safety of their room.

He didn't make it. The thing pounced on him with less than ten feet to go and he hollered, loud. It had to bring Sam out, and where the hell was Jack? "Time not up yet, bitch!" he growled as he grappled with it. He fired three slugs into it from close range and scrambled backward as it backed up, and then it reached for him again.

"Hey, ugly!" Sam's voice rang out, the ritual clear and concise, and there was a stream of something going over Dean's head and the demon screeched again. Abruptly it threw its head back and black smoke spewed from its mouth, and the body fell to the ground. Jack and Sam were there in a heartbeat to make sure Dean was okay.

Dean shook his head to clear it and looked up. Jack and Sam were looking down on him with nearly identical expressions of concern. Jack was holding something that looked suspiciously like a squirt gun. "What?" the kid asked them as he twirled it on his finger. "It's a water gun. Holy water is just water, right?"

Sam shook his head and Dean cracked half a smile. "Smart kid. Sam, let's get inside. Still several hours till dawn and they're more powerful at night, you know that." But Jack didn't. They'd have to teach him fast, although it looked like he was learning fast, too. "Bobby'll be here before too long if I know him. Let's get this done so we can get somewhere safe for this guy to learn a few things." He ruffled Jack's hair.

"Easy on the 'do, dude!" Jack protested as they helped Dean into the room and made sure the salt line at the door was intact. The traps were in place, all the protections, all they had to do was make it until dawn. It was like a bad horror movie.

"He won't be here that quick, Dean, it's a 14 hour drive from the yard," Sam explained patiently. "Well – maybe 12 the way he drives. But we're on our own for at least that long."

Dean collapsed on one of the beds while Jack looked on, a strange look on his face. "You guys get beat up like this a lot, huh." It wasn't a question, just a statement of fact.

"Yeah," Dean grunted as he reached for the water and tylenol Sam was offering. "All the time. Comes with the job. Listen, Jack..." He had to tell the boy. Had to. He just didn't know how.

"I already got it," Jack replied, still with that strange expression. "But don't expect me to call you 'Dad' or anything. I'm still mad at you for not being there."

(My thanks to the anonymous reviewer that pointed out my mistake in travel time! All better now!)


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural. The great Eric Kripke and a whole lot of other folks do, and I'm borrowing without permission. I'll put them back when I'm done, unharmed. I'm not making any money from this, it's purely for entertainment purposes.

Author's Note: This story is set in an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE. That means that some faces, facts, and features may not exactly match what you remember from canon. Don't like AU stories, don't read.

SPOILER WARNING: Spoilers for all seasons up to and including season 3 finale, "No Rest For the Wicked." Becomes AU just before NRFTW.

Part Eight

Dean just looked at Sam, who looked back with a little consternation. No, the boy wasn't stupid if he could put it together that quick. "Jack, I -"

"Don't. Just don't, okay? I get why you weren't, this is dangerous stuff. Doesn't mean I have to like it." Jack's face had closed in, set sullenly. "But if you'd been there, Mom might still be alive. If I'd known what you know, maybe I could have done something."

"You'd be dead." Dean had to head this off. He knew guilt, and this was just a little more. "The thing that killed your mom isn't your normal demon, okay?" He wasn't sure but it seemed more than likely from what Bobby had told them. Sulfur off the scale, usually meant a MAJOR demon. Stood to reason if Lilith knew about Jack, she'd try to take him out. Couldn't have another generation of Winchesters out there to mess up her plans. Whatever they were. "Lilith has a hard on hate for us and you got caught in the crossfire."

"You mentioned Lilith before. She's supposed to be in Hell, isn't she?" Jack wasn't buying it, not yet, but he had to admit it made sense. "What's she want with you guys?"

"She's not in Hell, Jack, not any more," Sam replied when Dean faltered. He wouldn't mention the deal, not till he had to, but it was on the tip of his tongue. "As for what she wants us for, you got me. All I know is we've been dodging her for months now."

"There's something you're still not telling me, but okay," Jack said back. He wouldn't leave, not now. Not now that he knew what had killed his mom. He was going to get payback no matter what. Maybe later when he'd killed Lilith. Yeah, more likely she'd kill him, he was just a kid! How was he supposed to manage something _they _hadn't been able to do? He didn't know enough!

"We're not gonna let anything happen to you," Dean said firmly. He'd tracked the flow of emotion on the kid's face and wanted to reassure him. "You stick with us and we'll protect you. We'll teach you. And she won't get you without going through me, okay?" Yeah, for the next couple weeks anyway. After that, there was Sam. And Bobby. Nothing was going to touch this boy, not if he had any say in it.

"Dean," Sam began but Dean waved him silent. He got down right in front of his son with a wince of pain and looked the kid in the eye. Sam wasn't listening. "Dean, we can't -"

"Shut up, Sammy. Jack, you're smart. You know what we're up against, I can see it in your face. You stick with us, you're likely to get hurt or worse, but if you don't, you'll be dead. I can guarantee that. Lilith doesn't care that you're a kid. You're important to us and she'll use that." He held the boy's eyes for a moment more. "And you _are_ important to us. To me. Just because I didn't know about you doesn't mean I don't care." Dangerously close to chick flick here, but it needed to be said.

Jack ducked his head for a minute and then raised it, his eyes defiant. "Yeah. Okay. But that thing, it wasn't alone out there, was it? There could be more coming any minute. You _sure_ we're safe in here? If it really is Lilith can't she, I don't know, mojo herself around some of this stuff? She's the mother of all demons, guys!"

Sam twitched the curtains to look outside. "Doesn't look like anything coming yet, but he's right," he said evenly. "They'll come again and again until either they get in, or they draw us out." He wasn't sure about any of this but he'd go along with it. Up until Dean started acting like their dad and dragging this poor kid along on hunts. "Lilith isn't going to give you up that easy."

"No, she's not. Jack, we're safe. As safe as we can be. Bobby's coming, too, and he'll be able to help from outside." If he wasn't a demon entree, but Dean wasn't about to say that. Besides, Bobby knew more about hunting than they did, if there was a way to get around the demons, he'd know it. "We just hold out until he gets here. We've got food, soda, cable TV, we're good for a while, right? Sam, I'll take first watch. Jack, why don't you get some sleep?"

Dean's phone rang and he picked up, his eyes not leaving Jack's until he got a nod of acknowledgment. "Yeah, Bobby?"

"Get yourselves under cover and hang tight," was the gruff response. "Signs and omens all over the place. And you're in the middle of 'em."

"Yeah, we kinda figured, once the first demon jumped us," Dean replied as he peered out the window. "Almost got Jack. Kid's got good instincts, Bobby, he was ready to run before ~I~ was sure it was a demon."

"Well, keep yourselves under cover, you hear me? Lilith shows up you're dog chow, boy." Bobby was driving hard but he had the uncomfortable feeling he was going to be too late. "Just hang tight till I get there, we might be able to solve your ghost problem too." He rustled a bit of paper though he didn't take his eyes from the road.

"Hang on, Bobby, gonna put you on speaker." He did so and the three of them crowded around the little phone. "Shoot, what've you got?"

"Seems your ghost is a bit on the weird side. No remains that anyone knows of and most of the records have been purged. But not everything. He killed his wife, but not before she tried to kill him. They were running spells on each other, trying to do the other one in first. James got tired of waiting on spells and used a knife, but here's the kicker: the knife was never found."

"No evidence if they didn't have the knife, Dean, what the hell?" Sam was up and pacing and Jack was looking at Dean with a "You have an answer?" kind of look. "Wait, if they didn't find it, how'd they get a conviction?"

"Confession." Bobby's voice was firm, businesslike. "Signed confession, waived his right to trial. I'm thinking if you can find the knife, you can put paid to this guy and let him rest."

"Bobby, where'd you find all this out?" Sam wanted to know for a lot of reasons. "If he was a witch, it wouldn't have been common knowledge. His wife, either."

"No, but hunters talk. Had one in the area when the murder took place, was looking to put them both down. Had pity on the guy when he saw how broken up he was over his wife's death. Plus, awful hard to get hex stuff in prison. Guess he figured that'd be just desserts for our ghost and just left him to rot."

"So we have to find the knife. Great, Bobby, in case you'd forgotten we're stuck inside at least until you get here!" Okay so that wasn't fair but Dean didn't care. "This is nuts. We're spinning our wheels here and don't dare stick our heads up. She's out there, I can – I can feel it." Not good on so many levels and now Sam was giving him that odd look again.

"Yeah, well, work from inside, then, ya idjits. And keep that kid out of harm's way. I don't have to tell you what Lilith would do with him, knowing he's yours." There was no censure in Bobby's voice, but still there was something promising a LONG talk about this when it was all said and done. "Try to think of places he could have stashed the damn thing."

"All right, Bobby, we'll hang till you get here." Dean clicked off and tossed his phone on the bed. "New plan. Sam, you work that Google-fu or whatever it is and find whatever you can on this guy, see if there are any records left. Jack, you looked over that truck, is there ANYWHERE that he might've stashed the knife?"

"No. It's just a rusted out hulk, nothing left." Jack took Dean's phone and showed him the pictures. "See, there's nothing left. Wait!" He started to look excited. "That old guy, the demon, he said that the company took everything out of the cab after he got sent up. Said that even though he owned it outright, they took everything."

"A demon giving us clues? That is so wrong on so many levels." But it rang true. More than enough reason for a vengeful spirit, except that Dean was sure he wanted revenge on his witch wife rather than the company. Maybe he was after both, since he and Sam had both overheard the stories the truckers were telling, about disappearances from the lots. "Sam, new search, see what you can find out about this company, see if they've done the same thing to other drivers. Jack, you sleep." He caught the boy's rebellious glare and turned his own on the kid. "Sleep. We ain't going anywhere, not until Bobby gets here. You need to rest in case things get ugly."

"Okay, but I'm not gonna sleep. I'm too wired." Yet Jack laid himself down on the coverlet and covered his eyes with his arm, and within a few minutes was breathing deeply and regularly. Sam let his fingers finally stop typing and watched his brother carefully.

"Dean, he's not going to disappear if you stop looking at him," he said softly. "And what's this 'new search' crap? I'm not a computer, okay?" But he knew the banter would get them through, defuse the tension. It always did. "Why don't you get some sleep, too? Nothing's coming in here short of Lilith herself and in that case, we're all screwed. Get some rest. I'll wake you if I find something."

Dean just nodded. It had been a screwed up, stressful day, even worse than normal, and he was tired. He'd just lie back and close his eyes for a few minutes.

Sam watched until he fell asleep, and then returned to the computer after turning out the lights. He could see the screen and the keys well enough in the dark. He'd let them rest as long as he could.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural. The great Eric Kripke and a whole lot of other folks do, and I'm borrowing without permission. I'll put them back when I'm done, unharmed. I'm not making any money from this, it's purely for entertainment purposes.

Author's Note: This story is set in an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE. That means that some faces, facts, and features may not exactly match what you remember from canon. Don't like AU stories, don't read.

SPOILER WARNING: Spoilers for all seasons up to and including season 3 finale, "No Rest For the Wicked." Becomes AU just before NRFTW.

Part Nine

Morning saw them all, if not well rested, at least better for a few hours. Sam had finally given up somewhere around four when the text on the screen started jumbling together. And they hadn't been attacked again.

Dean rolled over and winced at the sunlight showing through the curtains and groaned. "Sam, if you don't have coffee around here -"

The threat wasn't finished because there was a knock at the door. Dean immediately came upright, as did Sam, and Jack rolled off the far side of his bed to get between it and the wall. He stuck just his eyes up over the edge and watched Dean. "Bobby said keep a low profile, didn't he?" he asked as he kept low. "This is about as low as I can get and still see what's going on."

Dean snorted and put his hand on his silver knife while motioning Sam to get behind the door. He twitched the curtain quickly and relaxed enough to open the door. "Bobby, are you a sight for sore eyes," he said simply as he allowed the older man to enter the room. If he could, it stood to reason it wasn't a demonic trick. There was salt over the threshold and a devil's trap inscribed right inside the door. If he could pass those, he was safe. Then he saw what Bobby was carrying and grinned. "Coffee," he almost drooled. "Gimme."

He took the cup eagerly and opened it, knowing that Bobby took his coffee the same way as he did – black with sugar and strong enough to clean car parts with. Then he spared a glance across the bed as Sam moved to get his own coffee and were those donuts? "Jack, come on out," he said between sips. "Bobby, this is Jack. Jack, Bobby."

Bobby nodded at the kid and dropped a load of paper and books on the table. Jack, in turn, moved to the older man and offered his hand. "Good to meet you, sir," he said politely. He was uncomfortable, but he passed it off as just nerves. This guy was his dad's friend and he'd make nice.

"You sure he's yours?" Bobby asked as he shook the kid's hand. Good, firm shake, said a lot about the boy. "Lot more polite than you are, anyway." He tempered the rebuke with a smile. "Go on, there's chocolate milk in with those coffee cups, and there's enough sugar in those donuts to keep all three of you bouncing off the walls for days." Then he sat down with his own cup and opened one of the texts. "Found these when I was looking around for records on James," he explained. They were as safe as they could be in here, but he still wanted the ball rolling.

He waited until Dean had his mouth full of donut and Sam had moved closer to look over his shoulder. "This is from the other hunter's journal. Had a time tracking him down; but he finally agreed to talk to me. Probably just to shut me up, I don't know." The pages were close written, with a multitude of notes in the margins and almost illegible. "Nearest I can make out, wifey was a witch from way back, but James was just getting into it. Started casting spells to try and get even with the truck company before he even got married. Said they were crooked and taking more than they should."

"That fits with what we've heard," Sam said with a significant look at Jack, who was making a substantial inroads on the donuts. "Jack, tell Bobby what the demon said last night, okay? When you were looking at the truck."

Jack swallowed quickly and washed the mass down with some milk. "He said that the company took everything out of the truck when James went to jail," he explained quietly. "Even though James owned it free and clear, Transcon came in and took everything. He's right, too, there's nothing left but a lot of nothing." He took Dean's phone and showed Bobby the pictures.

Bobby looked up at Dean, who shrugged. "He's learning," he said simply. "But that probably means the knife is somewhere in the company lockup." He looked over at Sam.

Sam hadn't been idle. He'd gone to his computer when he'd seen the notes and been searching quickly. "Got something on Kelly James," he said quietly. "Still no records I can find on Harlan, but his wife – wow. Says she was working as a secretary at Transcon United when hubby killed her."

"Dude, we need in that office," Dean said quietly. He regarded Jack speculatively. "Sam and I are gonna go scout, see what we can find, okay? Want you to stay here with Bobby and see what else you two can dig up."

"Hold on!" Bobby cut in quickly. "There's more here." He pulled out one of the newspapers. "Check the story on page six. The photograph." He pointed out the relevant article. "See anything there?"

Dean leaned back and set his jaw while Sam groaned. "What?" Jack asked as he also took a look. He couldn't be too upset with them; they were including him in this and that was what he wanted, but just the same, some of it was creeping him out big-time. All he saw was a trick of the light that made the woman's eyes seem black. Then it hit him.

Dean growled softly. "That's ten years old, Bobby, are you telling me one of the jurors was a damn _demon?" _ His words were crackling with anger. "What the hell are we into here?"

TBC...


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural. The great Eric Kripke and a whole lot of other folks do, and I'm borrowing without permission. I'll put them back when I'm done, unharmed. I'm not making any money from this, it's purely for entertainment purposes.

Author's Note: This story is set in an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE. That means that some faces, facts, and features may not exactly match what you remember from canon. Don't like AU stories, don't read.

SPOILER WARNING: Spoilers for all seasons up to and including season 3 finale, "No Rest For the Wicked." Becomes AU just before NRFTW.

Part Ten

"Bobby, I thought you said he confessed?" Sam was trying to make sense of it too, and Jack just kept watching the paper like the picture might move. "No need for a jury if he confessed and entered a guilty plea."

"Yeah, see, that's where it gets real weird. He maintained his innocence right up until the first day of the trial," Bobby explained patiently. "Then the morning it's supposed to start, he tells his lawyer he wants to plead guilty, wants to fess up. No explanation, no rhyme or reason to it. Just out of the blue. Jury was dismissed, case closed."

"Sounds like the demon was there to make sure he took the fall," Jack said in the ensuing silence. Three pairs of eyes swiveled to watch him. "What? We're talking about demons and ghosts and witches, here, guys! It's what I'd do if I wanted him in jail, and I'm not a demon. Make sure he knew that if he didn't roll over he'd end up dead."

Dean and Sam regarded each other steadily and Bobby just watched the kid. Yeah, he new more than he should at the tender age of thirteen, especially if he was thinking twisted thoughts like that. Dean was going to have to straighten him out in a hurry; but on the other hand, it would be an asset when he got old enough to hunt. If he survived that long. Lilith wasn't going to wait much longer and if Jack was in her way...

"Anything else you guys want to tell me?" he asked gruffly as he brought out a thermos. He poured more coffee into his own cup and handed it to Dean without a word.

Dean poured out a generous measure and handed it to Sam with a grimace. "Just a vision, if you want to call it that," he said simply. He knew Sam would take it up from there; it was just what they did.

"Yeah, you could call it that. Nearly busted my skull open, Bobby." Sam put the thermos on the table and cradled his cup in both hands. "Sudden. Dean, Jack, and me. Truck hangar. Nothing more concrete than that. Just the three of us in a truck hangar."

"Yeah, well, those things never turned out good, did they." Bobby took a deep breath. "Okay, well I know one thing. You guys ain't going anywhere NEAR that office. Most truck companies work out of their warehouses. I don't want you within a hundred miles of the place."

"Yeah, now tell him the rest of it, Sasquatch." Dean wasn't pulling punches. "Tell him about how you saw Lilith's eyes over the whole thing."

"Yeah, why don't you tell me about that," Bobby growled. "There is no way in hell I'm letting you two go in there, not now. Let's suss something else out here. Getting into the lockup ain't an option, so what's left?"

"Why isn't it an option?" Jack demanded. "All he saw was us, right? We should be able to walk in, walk out. It's not like he saw something get us, or anything."

Dean gave him a look. Suddenly he could understand his dad's frustration while teaching him to hunt. "Jack, the vision isn't perfect. If it shows us in that hangar, and he saw Lilith's eyes with it, then it's probably some kind of trap. We're not going to get caught that way. Bobby, if you won't let us go, why don't you? You might be able to at least find out where they keep the stuff."

"I could." He took a deep breath. "Wait till dark, I'll go in and see if I can't find the knife. You two idjits can sit here and help this kid understand what's going on before he gets himself killed. Or worse." That there _were _worse things was a certainty in his mind. He still wasn't sure why the kid had shown up, but he was convinced Jack _was_ Dean's boy. The two were so much alike that it was a little frightening.

"Jack, here." Dean passed over an old journal and Bobby's eyes crawled upward. Sam had his mouth open, silent, but obviously touched by the gesture. "Read as much of this as you can wrap your mind around. You got questions, you ask me or Sam. Bobby's going to rest so he can do a little breaking and entering tonight." There was a small smile on his face. "You get it, I know you do. Most of what we do, it ain't legal. Fake ID's, hiding in abandoned houses, it's all pretty much old news to us." He indicated the journal. "That's a big part of how we learned what we know. Bobby had a hand in it, too, a big one, as well as your grandfather. But a lot of it we learned on our own, working from that journal."

"So it's a family business," Jack replied as Bobby growled at Dean. "Okay, I can buy that. Means I'll have to learn that stuff too, though, right? And how to use more than just a squirt gun. And you want me to try and memorize what's in here, right?"

"Memorize, no," Sam said quickly, cutting Dean off. "But get a good working knowledge of it. A lot of what we hunt is in there." He gave a small smile of his own. "Think of it as home schooling and that's the textbook."

Sam's whimsy wasn't lost on the others. Jack nodded and propped himself up on one of the beds to read, his lips moving when he found an unfamiliar word until he was convince he had it right. Bobby had popped the cap on a bottle of No-doze and was pouring more coffee as he pulled out a few more books. Sam was back on his laptop, obviously trying to find something else to help them. Dean watched them for a moment and then shrugged his jacket back on. "It's daylight, it should be safe enough," he said in explanation as he gathered his keys. "I'll go get more supplies. We'll need more coffee anyway." He caught their nearly identical looks of concern and scoffed. "Oh, come on! Expiration date isn't here yet, guys. She won't do anything yet. Besides, there should have been more come after us last night if that was the case. I'm just gonna get a couple things. I can't just sit here, okay?"

"You be careful out there," Bobby replied as he bent once more to the text. "You get into trouble, we got no way to know it. Any sign of anything off, you get back here or I'll tan your hide, you got me?"

Dean just grinned and went to the door. Yeah, it was good to have Bobby around. "Promise. Back in a bit."

TBC...


End file.
